Candy Shop Girl
by Rhya Storm
Summary: Takes place nine years after the movie. Charlie is out for a walk, and holds an impromptu conversation with a countergirl in a candyshop. Drabble.


Summary: Takes place nine years after the movie. Charlie goes out for a walk, and holds an impromptu conversation with the counter-girl of a candy shop. NOT A ROMANCE.

A/N: This is my first foray into the wonderful world that is Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. As such, I'm really hoping that it's decent, or at least so-so. Just a little drabble that popped into my head about Charlie going up and talking to random people ... or people doing the same to him. I don't know if I'll continue it - if enough people like it, and I find the inclination, probably - but it stands well enough on its own. Enjoy!

* * *

Charlie took a long, deep breath and smiled as he walked along the sidewalk, long, leisurely strides carrying him easily in whatever direction he desired. He smiled and waved to several people in passing, though none went out of their way to stop and chat. This wasn't surprising, however – since Charlie had hit his mid-teens growth spurt, he had become nearly unrecognizable as the young heir to Wonka's chocolate factory. And, since he always took care to leave by the back entrance of the factory when he left on his occasional rambles around town, no one marked him as out-of-the-ordinary, which was just the way he liked it.

Charlie, over the past nine years, had shot up in height, leaving him towering over almost everyone he came across at a surprising six foot two. His dark brown hair was a bit shaggier than he'd kept it when he was younger, and his teeth had been straightened out, but the genuine feeling of cheer and good-will that always seemed to follow Charlie Bucket around remained.

The tall young man came to a halt in front of a small corner candy shop – the very candy shop, in fact, where he had found his Golden Ticket all those years ago. Looking in, he saw that the kindly old man that had manned the counter was gone – his picture was on the wall with the label "Manager" underneath. The shop was a bit bigger now – the rooms next-door to it had been acquired, and the wall knocked out for more space. Several counters now stretched along the walls, with several people manning them – two people around Charlie's age, and a man in his mid-fifties.

On sudden impulse, Charlie stepped into the store, the bell on the door ringing cheerfully as he entered. He took a long, deep breath, taking in the warm, chocolaty smell of the shop, before wandering around the rows of candy and magazines.

He stopped in front of a rack of candy bars – Wonka candy bars, in fact. He allowed his eyes to rove over the familiar sight, and was suddenly seized by a sudden impulse to buy one.

He snorted as soon as the ridiculous thought struck him. What on _earth_ did he need to buy chocolate for – and Wonka chocolate, at that? He _lived _in a chocolate _factory_, for Pete's sake – he could have chocolate any time he wanted, and not have to pay a thing! Why, then, did he feel the need to buy one at this small corner shop? The very notion was pure nonsense. And yet, it remained.

Charlie stood there for a moment or two, debating fiercely with himself, before determinedly – and completely on impulse – reaching out and selecting a Wonka candy bar from the rack. He didn't take any of the newer or fancier chocolate bars, the ones with hundreds of different fillings or toppings – just a regular, original Wonka bar, solid chocolate, made from the best milk chocolate Willy Wonka could muster – and that was saying something in itself. In fact, Charlie realized with a start, it was the same type of Wonka bar he had bought on that fateful day, on which he had found Wonka's last Golden Ticket and become the luckiest boy in the entire world.

It was then that Charlie realized why he wished to buy the candy bar – simply for old time's sake, as a way of remembering that wonderful day, here in this very corner shop. He chuckled helplessly at his own foolishness – buying a piece of chocolate he had undoubtedly helped make – as he got in line behind an old woman buying what looked to him like a mop with a bad hair day.

He smiled at the girl behind the counter, who was about his own age, as the old woman left and he placed the chocolate bar on the counter. She, surprisingly enough, responded with a readily friendly smile of her own. Charlie suddenly felt as if a brief but sunny conversation had passed between the two of them – "Lovely day to be alive," "Yes, absolutely wonderful!", or something along those lines – as if they had both commented on a rather happy state of mind, and found that they agreed. Charlie had noted this happening oftener and oftener as he rambled around the town – with a simple glance or nod, he and a complete stranger would hold conversations or passing greetings without ever needing to say a word. Charlie didn't know if this happened to everyone, if he was just rather good at reading people, or if it was all in his head – but this time, at least, it seemed the girl had received the conversation as well.

"Just a regular Wonka bar, then?" she asked suddenly, ringing up the price on an antiquated cash register, effectively jarring him from his thoughts. She had her eyebrows raised, an expectant look upon her face.

"Ah – yes," he replied, confused. His confusion must have shown on his face, for her smile shrank slightly and she looked down, blushing lightly as if abashed.

"I'm sorry, that must be a very strange question," she said hastily, accepting his five-dollar bill and stuffing it into the money drawer. "It's just – there are so many other types, so many varieties, especially nowadays, you'd think most people wouldn't want a regular Wonka bar …"

Charlie shrugged, a small smile finding its way to his face once more. "I just like the regular ones, I suppose," he explained amiably.

She laughed suddenly – a small laugh, but a laugh nonetheless, as she counted out his change. "Actually, you'd be surprised at the number of people who prefer them," she admitted, grinning sheepishly up at him. "I mean, lots of people still buy the fancy ones, but there are still those who don't like the toppings or fillings or any of that and just buy the plain ones – and there's this whole following that only buy the regular ones because they think that they're the best, out of all Wonka's chocolates, because they're really the originals …" She trailed off for a moment, then gasped, horrified, as she suddenly thrust his change at him.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, here I am babbling like an idiot about candy preferences, and you're here waiting for your change," she stammered, obviously mortified. "I'm just, I'm so sorry, I-"

"No, no," Charlie cut her off hurriedly, before she could get any more distressed than she already was. "It's fine! Really!" Looking at her doubtful, embarrassed face, he added, "Actually, I love candy, I would talk about it all day long if I could."

She raised an eyebrow at him, slowly recovering from her previous mortification. "All day?" she asked dubiously, as if she didn't quite believe him.

"All _week_," he insisted, grinning – finally, someone in the outside world who appreciated more about candy as much as to talk to a complete stranger about it! He suddenly felt less of an outsider, of an alien, simply by knowing that candy-crazed people existed outside of the factory.

She laughed, her broad smile returned. "_Well_," she said in faux-impressed manner, handing him his candy bar; "if that's the case then, you'd better move along and find someone who will _listen_ to you talk candy in their ear for a week, hadn't you?"

He feigned a hurt expression, widening his eyes at her. "What, I can't do that here?" he asked innocently of her.

Her face took on a wry, amused expression. "No, _sir_," she replied, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes – it was red, he noted, and curly, if short; "I'm afraid you can't, as you would hold up the line something dreadful if you stood there for a week. Even if you were talking candy."

He laughed and backed up three steps, still grinning at her. "Well, then I'd best be off," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. She snorted, still grinning wryly, making shooing motions towards him. "Yes, do go," she dead-panned, "stop fraternizing with the staff, you wicked villain, you."

Charlie turned and walked through the shop's door, still grinning to himself as he stripped the Wonka bar of its shiny wrapping and popped a piece into his mouth. That was one of the longest conversations he'd had with anyone outside the factory in years, and it had somehow managed to brighten his entire day. The taste of warm chocolate filled his mouth as he strolled along the sunny streets, feeling happy to be alive simply so that he could be enjoying today.


End file.
